


She Lives with Little Joy or Fear

by jettiebettie



Category: Death Note, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Character Study, Courtship, F/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jettiebettie/pseuds/jettiebettie
Summary: With as angry and uncooperative as the man she now knows to be Beyond Birthday had been during his hospitalization, Naomi had never expected to hear from him again. She certainly did not expect this. Or want it, in particular. But the cryptic messages themselves are intriguing in their own way, even if Beyond thinks he's in love with her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've done my best to fuse certain qualities of the narrative style of the book with my own style, so this may seem quite unlike my usual manner of writing. As such, I'm a bit unsure with how well the fic flows. Additionally, if my puzzles seem too simplistic, that's because they are, embarrassingly enough. I am no great puzzle maker, or solver, so these may come across as easier than they should be. This is purely due to the limitations of myself as an author. Overall, it was an interesting writing experiment. I hope that it is easy to follow and worth your time!

She was in a hotel room in DC when she learned of the first letter. The conference would start tomorrow and tonight all Naomi Misora wanted was to relax. The only thing that kept her from running a hot bath and staying there was the process of unpacking her suitcase before her slacks wrinkled. A continuous chime from her idle running laptop caught her attention mid-chore, and a video call meant it was from Raye Penber, all the way back in Los Angeles. Misora immediately answered.

“Hey, I was about to call you. Just got to my room and-” She stopped when she saw the look on Raye’s face. It was the same pinched expression he got whenever he felt it was his place to worry about her. “Is everything okay?”

Raye held up an envelope.

“This came in the mail for you today,” he said, his voice a bit strained.

“Oh?” Misora leaned in to get a better look as Raye moved it closer to the webcam. It took a moment to come into focus, but she was able to make out the return address printed in the left hand corner. “Is that-”

“From the prison that guy was sent to. The one who set himself on fire…”

Misora wasn't sure what she felt in that moment. It wasn't fear, per se. Perhaps a bit, maybe something like trepidation or anxiety. She pursed her lips together before asking,

“What was inside?”

Raye looked like he was about to deny having opened it, but she could clearly see the neatly cut top of the envelope and even he seemed to realize there would be no point. He pulled out a folded piece of paper, opening it and giving it one more concerned look before holding it up. The camera refocused and Misora could see sketched out in the middle a series of hand-written numbers. The digits were enclosed in almost perfectly drawn boxes and set apart from each other. She had no idea what it was she was looking at and that fact caused a sinking feeling in her stomach and a strange sense of urgency to race through her spine.

"Can you fax this to the hotel lobby? I'll think I saw the number somewhere-"

"Absolutely not."

Misora paused in reaching for the courtesy pad of paper on the nightstand.

"What, why?"

"Aren't you a little busy right now?" Raye asked as he moved the paper off-screen.

"The conference is tomorrow afternoon. Raye, I need to take a look at this, it could be important. I _know_ it's important. He doesn't do anything without a reason."

"The case is over, Naomi. Your involvement ended with your testimony."

"Raye." Misora bent to look more fully into the camera. "Please. Fax me the letter. If the Warden let this go through then they might have thought it was nothing, but it's never nothing."

It was clear to her how much Raye wanted to simply throw the paper away and pretend it never existed, but she could also see him cracking. He finally sighed and rubbed the center of his forehead.

"Alright, alright. Give me the number, I'll fax it over. But, Naomi?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't get carried away. It's a note from a madman behind bars. What could he possibly do?"

Misora wanted to tell him that it wouldn't surprise her if Beyond Birthday found a multitude of ways to do something horrifically heinous from prison. But for the sake of getting her hands on that letter immediately, she chose to keep her mouth shut.

Ten minutes and a quick stop by the front desk later, she sat herself at the hotel room desk. The copy of the letter laid there and seemed to be looking up at her in challenge. She clicked a pen and dragged the pad of paper close to her as she took down the numbers exactly as she saw them.

[03][3][6/5][//][//][//]

The first set of numbers were easy to read in their boxes. [03] and [3]. The next one was harder to make out. The way the 6 was more visible than the 5 gave the impression of an old clock in the middle of changing numbers. The last three boxes were different with no distinguishable numbers, but filled with shaded markings all the same. 03... 3... 6 and 5.

"Month, day, year? March the 3rd, 2005? No... there'd be a 0 in front of the other 3 and the 6. Plus there are three more boxes..."

Misora quickly measured by eye the extra boxes. The last three were the same size as the first one. The 3 and the 6-moving-to-5 were shorter in width than the others.

"Room for two digits?"

The longer she looked at the numbers, the less sense they made. CCE/F? No. Page numbers again, perhaps? Without a clue to the reference book? No. And how was she supposed to determine the last three sets of numbers with the three she had?

She unconsciously looked out of the corner of her eye, half expecting to see a hunched, unsettling man on the floor ready to absently say something that would lead her to the key to solving the puzzle.

She thanked god when all she saw was her discarded dress shirt, forgotten since Raye's call.

-

Embarrassingly, she spent most of the conference going through every code and cipher she knew by heart. Misora felt like a child in school again, a copy of Beyond's message hidden under hastily taken notes on the speaker's topic. Rather than proposing changes in certain protocol, she used her time scratching out every stray idea she had, throwing them against the wall to see what would stick.

Nothing really had.

She used the remainder of her day to walk around DC, wishing she were back home or at least had access to her motorcycle; Misora always thought better around familiar things. Now, however, she just had to make do with a bench overlooking the Potomac. She took a deep breath to clear her head, forcing nonsensical numbers out.

Why was Beyond contacting her now? The last time she had seen him, there was nothing but contempt for her in his eyes. She had gone to see him in the hospital several times- to understand, for some kind of explanation, for literally anything to shed light on why he had done it all. In the end, he had given her nothing but hateful looks and insults to her character. Probably for the best, Misora thought, because it made it easier to distinguish between the two sides of the man she knew. For all his exceedingly odd and repulsive behavior, she had found it difficult to imagine Ryuzaki beating in a woman's head or tearing out a child's eyes. The man strapped to that hospital bed? The gauze and horrific burns did quite a bit to give him a villainous appearance, made him into a caricature of evil. She knew better than most that looks (and age) meant nothing when it came to criminal masterminds, but still...

It had been easier.

So why now? Misora hadn't seen or heard from Beyond besides learning that he'd been transferred from the hospital to prison. Was this a threat against her? Some kind of clock counting down until his revenge or...?

Misora's back went straight, her movement so sudden that she almost toppled over her bag. She rifled through it for the copy of the letter and her yearly planner. With an unusual amount of adrenaline spurring her on, she unfolded the paper and placed it beside the calendar in her lap. She paused for a second to gather her thoughts, knowing she was on the cusp of something. Misora tapped against the indistinguishable numbers in the last three boxes.

"Something missing that should be there. This is where I should be looking..." she said to herself. "Missing... why are they missing? They're missing because... because the clock is too fast?"

Was it a clock? It had to be. Counting down to what? To when? 03. 3. 6-moving-to-5. No, that couldn't be right. Being a drawing, it was left to her interpretation, but she definitely got the feeling that the 6 was more visible because the clock was moving to 6 and away from 5. The clock was counting up. Scrambling through her planner back a few months into 2002, she started counting and found her answer.

"The first box is the month- two spaces for twelve possible months. But you only get four weeks before you roll over to another month, and only seven days before another week. Twenty-four hours, sixty minutes, sixty seconds. Three months, three weeks, six days... and not even you can get right down to the hour, minute, or second that I'd see this letter, could you, Beyond? That would be freaky even for you."

And her planner confirmed. At the time she had received the letter, it had been 3 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days since the last time Naomi Misora and Beyond Birthday spoke.

-

Misora was far more galvanized by her discovery than Raye. She spent the first five minutes explaining the puzzle and setting out the timeline before she noticed the increasing look of agitation on his face.

"What's wrong now?"

"Nothing."

Misora set her planner down beside her laptop and sighed.

"I know I said I wouldn't get carried away, but-"

"You have to understand how this looks. 'Counting the days since he's seen you last?' What's his deal with you?"

Now this was something Misora had learned early on in her relationship with Raye Penber; there would be times, as with this moment, where she would have to interpret his worries for her safety and reputation as being endearing rather than insulting. And while she had lost her temper with him a handful of times over such matters, overall she knew she was lucky to have someone who was concerned for her well-being. At the very least, it's what she told herself when she took a slow breath before shrugging one shoulder.

"I ruined his master plans. Whatever those happened to be..."

"So you do think it's a threat."

"I think it's a request. I think he wants to talk to me about something. Maybe to finally tell someone why he did what he did?"

Raye shook his head.

"You can't honestly be considering this. The guy is dangerous, Naomi."

"It's just a phone call. Besides, he's behind bars. What could he possibly do?" Misora threw back. She felt slightly guilty when Raye's shoulders visibly sagged, but her point was made.

"You'll have to get permission from the Warden and the Director. The guy's in solitary for a reason," Raye said.

"I've already sent them emails. Hopefully they'll be able to get me in contact with him in a day or two. Now, are you going to be free the day after tomorrow to meet me at the airport?"

They ended the call only a few minutes later after discussing her return flight and pick-up schedule. Misora's mind was already made up and Raye knew better than to press.

-

It should be noted that Misora never did handle nervous energy well, especially without access to any of her usual outlets. While she wasn't known for fidgeting, she couldn't stop the drumming of her fingers against the hotel room desk. She'd been on hold for several minutes and though she'd expected the wait, it only added to the strange rise of anticipation in her chest.

Beyond Birthday had been eerily tight-lipped ever since his arrest, at least where the LA murders were concerned. He'd signed a confession, yes, but nothing outside what the police already knew. No motive or reasoning was given for _why_ he had done those things, he only verified that he _had_. Misora believed there was more- surely these murders were not his first. The level of detail, the meticulous planning; all were indicators of at least some level of experience, of skill. But Beyond gave them nothing, and in the end three gruesome murders where enough to slap him with a life sentence.

But Misora had always wondered and now- _now_ she might finally get some answers.

She was embarrassed when a click on the other end of the phone caused her to jump a bit in her seat. The following silence on the other end was unsettling, because it wasn't silence. She could just hear the background sounds of someone's footsteps, the white noise of the building.

Of someone breathing very lightly near the receiver.

Swallowing dryly, Misora readied herself.

"Beyond Birthday?" she asked evenly.

"Naomi Misora. This is a surprise."

He didn't sound surprised at all.

"I got your letter."

"Yes, you did."

Misora found herself filled with the desire she often had around Ryuzaki which she never acted upon; the urge to give him one hard push just to watch him fall out of his ridiculous ill-postured crouch and eat the floor.

"..."

"Are you still there, Misora?"

"Yes."

"Good. Though unexpected, I was happy to hear that you'd requested to speak to me."

"Unexpected? You specifically sent me a letter with how long it's been since we've spoken. It's you who wished to speak with me, I imagine," Misora said as she grasped the phone harder.

"Hm. To be quite honest, I had anticipated that you would ignore my invitation. I admit I wasn't very amiable towards you in our last meeting. I had not planned for the eventuality of you contacting me," Beyond said.

Then why bother?

"Well, you have my attention for the moment. If you _had_ expected to hear from me, what was it you wanted to say?"

"You're a very beautiful woman, Naomi Misora."

"..."

"Ah? Have I said something wrong? I was under the impression this is how this usually goes."

"What is _this_ , exactly?"

"Courtship."

Misora hung up.

-

That night Misora had a dream. She was seated at a low table in Backyard Bottomslash's bedroom, the dolls lining the furthest wall now replaced with atmospheric candles. Across from her was Rue Ryuzaki, legs pulled up to his chest as he held up what seemed to be a bottle of dessert wine.

"Would you care for a glass, Misora?"

Having decided that alcohol could only be an improvement to this bizarre situation, Misora gave a small polite nod.

"Yes, please."

A shudder ran down her back as she watched Ryuzaki crawl on all fours up the wall behind him and to the ceiling, continuing until he was over Misora's place at the table. He tipped the bottle over and a stream of pure sugar collected in her wine glass.

"It's a fine year," Ryuzaki said.

"It's rude."

"Oh?"

"Being on the ceiling is rude," she explained.

"Some might say it's romantic."

When Misora woke up, it was with "No one would say that" on the tip of her tongue and a perturbed look on her face, one that she was sure remained as she hailed a taxi, went through airport security, during the whole of her five-hour non-stop flight, and to the moment Raye picked her up near baggage claim.

-

A call between an inmate and the FBI agent who arrested him isn't the kind of thing that gets ignored, especially when that inmate was Beyond Birthday, a man who unsettled even the most hardened of interrogators. Aside from the bare facts, little was known about him despite a thorough background check which turned up next to nothing, and the apparent senselessness of his crimes had left a bitter taste in everyone's mouths. In the time of his hospitalization and incarceration, there was nothing Beyond Birthday offered up that he wasn't sure investigators already knew. So the day that he asked for paper and something to write with, the Warden was more than willing to allow it under the necessary supervision with the hope that a more in-depth confession would follow. Instead, a series of numbers in boxes was mailed to Investigator Naomi Misora's desk in Los Angeles. She had discovered the meaning of the message and requested a one-on-one phone call with the inmate in question. Surely then they would get the answers they sought, through Misora. The Director read the transcript of the phone call one more time before looking up at the agent who sat on the other side of his desk.

"Anything you'd like to tell me?"

"Sir?"

The Director gestured to the papers.

"You spent, what, several days investigating the Wara Ningyo Murders with this man?" he asked. Misora shifted in her seat.

"He used an alias, but under L's advisement I did cooperate with him, yes."

"Well, It seems you left quite the impression."

The man's tone was one she had encountered many times in her career with the FBI. The one that carried _implications_ to her nature as a woman in a male dominated field. And knowing that any form of denial would be taken as some variation of guilt, Misora said nothing but allowed her expression to turn cold, as if daring her boss to say aloud any of the unflattering things he was thinking.

"Whatever the... connection between the two of you, we've been presented with an opportunity. This case is closed, but there are still too many questions. It would behoove our organization's reputation that he not go down in future criminal psychology textbooks as a complete unknown. If Beyond Birthday is willing to continue his... _communication_ with you, you might be able to coax more information from him."

Misora wanted to ask if it was policy to more or less prostitute agents out for profit, but bit her tongue to keep herself calm.

"Willing to continue?" she pressed instead. The Director nodded once, picking up an unsealed envelope from his desk and handing it to her.

"From your admirer."

-

 The letter stayed in her purse for the rest of the day. Misora accepted the envelope and left without so much as a dismissal from the Director and didn't stop walking until she'd reached her motorcycle outside. She shoved the helmet onto her head and took off, not looking back once. Old doubts crept up in the back of her mind, the question of whether or not returning to the FBI had really been the right thing to do. Misora knew she was capable, knew she good at her job. But being good at something did not always correlate to one's happiness. Was she happy here, constantly fighting against people she should have been able to rely on? Their silent judgment and unspoken accusations were like a tide against her legs, forcing her back. Misora was strong and had pushed against that tide for a long time, but even she grew tired. At a stop light, Misora glanced at her left hand, the ring on her finger shifting as she adjusted her grip on the handlebars. Maybe, just maybe, Raye had been right. Maybe it was time to stop fighting so hard for such little recompense. Maybe it was time to try something new. It was this rather defeatist thought that spun in her head as she made her way into her apartment and finally pulled out the envelope to open it.

Rather than an actual letter, there was instead another picture. A _wara ningyo_ was centered on the page, sketched out in graphite and with impeccable detail. She could see the individual strands of straw that made up the doll, the twisted twine used for string to hold the doll together.

Even the sheen of membrane on the organs inside.

"Yes," Misora muttered flatly to herself. "Consider me romanced."

The doll reminded her of a biology textbook, the straw and twine cut away in the middle for a view of the innards in the torso. The composition of the organs matched that of a normal human being, along with a ribcage and sternum. The shading on the large and small intestines was impressive.

Misora set the letter down on the counter top in her kitchen and went to her bedroom, planting herself face first into her pillow.

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, her voice muffled. Whether she was addressing Beyond or herself, she found she really wasn't sure.

Probably Beyond.

Mostly Beyond.

She stayed there for quite a while, even when she heard Raye use his key at the front door.

"Naomi?"

"In here," she said, speaking louder as she refused to lift her head. There was a pause before she heard Raye's footfalls make their way to her bedroom. Finally lifting her head, she saw him standing in the doorway, briefcase in one hand and the letter in the other, with a frown on his face as he looked at it.

"Tell me again how this isn't a threat against your life."

Misora groaned and let her head fall again.

"I promise, it's not. Put it away, I don't want to look at it right now."

Raye set his things down near the door and walked over to her, placing the letter on her nightstand before sitting on the bed next to her.

"We have people whose job it is to pour over things like this, you know. It doesn't have to be you who does it."

"He won't talk to anyone else. And I think it's supposed to be something only I would get, at least quickly."

Raye sighed, and Misora could see him ready himself to give her another lecture. Not wanting to give him the chance, she pushed herself up and pressed against him.

"It's too bad you didn't get to go to DC with me," she said, changing the subject entirely. Raye visibly stuttered, losing track of his thoughts for a second. "I missed you."

"... Missed you, too. It was just a few days, but-"

"C'mere," Misora said, pulling him closer and kissing the side of his mouth. When Raye began to strip off her jacket, she knew she had successfully distracted him from the letter.

-

Raye was fast asleep when Misora left the bed to shower and he was still asleep when she rejoined him. Wide awake and staring at the (thankfully empty) ceiling, Misora lied there and thought. Something missing that should be there. Skin? Was the skin what was missing? But it wasn't skin, it was straw and straw was elsewhere in the picture. Looking at it might help her thought process but she was loathe to do so, out of spite if nothing else. What would be the point? Apparently this was Beyond's form of flirting (and Misora did her very best not to excuse herself for another shower), any message gleaned from this puzzle would have nothing to do with his case or his past.

But even though her pride railed against it, her mind continued to churn potential solutions. Not the straw, not the chest itself. Something else. The nail? The nail that held the _wara ningyo_ to the wall was not artistically presented. Could that have been it? It certainly seemed plausible, considering how important the nail and the hole left behind had been to her finally deducing that-

Wait. No. If the nail was _meant_ to be there, a hole would have been left. In the doll itself, puncturing something in the chest cavity. Maybe Beyond would have even added blood. But there was no blood.

"Because there's no heart," Misora whispered as to not wake Raye. She quickly made sure he was still on his side facing the other way before she rolled over and turned on her bedside lamp. Sitting up, Misora held the sheets to her chest and reached for the letter, angling it to the light. She brought it close to her face and yes. There, behind the sternum, she could see it. Or rather, she didn't see it, the tip of the heart that should have been peeking out was noticeably absent. Was Beyond calling her heartless for having hung up on him? He didn't really seem the type. No, he was far more patient than that, as was evident in the state of his crime scenes.

She was on the right track though, she could feel it. So the fact that he had chosen to display this inside a _wara ningyo_ was also important, it meant something. What was the _wara ningyo_ to Beyond? Early into the investigations of his murders, the dolls were originally believed to be a message in and of themselves. But they hadn't exactly been that, had they? They were more of a red herring. At least Beyond had wanted Misora to think they were a red herring before she realized that they weren't. The _wara ningyo_ doll was his key. But not just his key, it was Misora's key to her breakthrough.

"I found his key... I found _the_ key," she muttered before a metaphorical light went off in her head.

_You found the key to my heart._

"That is... so gross."

The next morning, Misora woke up early enough to mail her own letter. It simply read "generic" with a poorly drawn stick figure of herself setting Beyond's drawing on fire.

-

The Director hadn't asked for an update concerning Beyond Birthday's letter, and Misora wasn't in the mood to offer said information to him, especially when it could be used against her. It seemed he was only interested in the end result, giving Misora time to build trust or whatever. And as much as she also wished to know more, wished to _understand_ , Misora's thoughts would sometimes take a spiteful turn, that if she did ever manage to learn something new she would keep it to herself, hoard it with scorn and selfishness. These thoughts concerned her as she never would have considered herself to be a hateful person. Maybe she needed another leave of absence...

She wondered what L would think of all this.

Did he know Beyond had begun communicating with the outside world, with her? Misora couldn't imagine that he didn't. But since she had received no word from L, neither advisement nor warning, she would have to assume he was willing to wait and watch.

How embarrassing.

Despite the mild mortification she felt, Misora found herself going through her week anticipating Beyond's next message. As unfortunate as they were, they were also strangely entertaining, certainly more engaging than a bouquet of flowers or needlessly fancy dinner. It still confused her though, because Beyond had definitely been angry with her four months ago during their last visit. "It was perfect," he had snarled at her. "You ruined _everything_." In her own anger, she had told him, "If you wanted to die so badly, you shouldn't have killed those people first. Then no one would have cared."

And with the way Beyond had gripped the railing of the hospital bed with his one unburned hand, Misora realized that had been the part of the point. He wanted someone to notice. But who? The police? All of LA?

L himself?

Misora had always felt that the first three murders of the Wara Ningyo Case had been precursory to Beyond's true purpose, his way of setting the stage for his murder/suicide. But with no insight to Beyond's life prior to meeting him as Ryuzaki, Misora was never able to understand why he went to such lengths. She only had her instincts and her instincts said it had something to do with L. Perhaps it didn't matter in the long run, because Beyond was now behind bars and had apparently undergone some sort of 180 concerning his outlook on having survived the attempt on his own life... he had done a 180 concerning his outlook on _her_. Was he happy to be alive now? In prison? In solitary? Misora found it hard to believe, but Ryuzaki had always been absurdly odd. And given the style of his letters, Beyond wasn't much better as himself.

Speaking of letters.

She had just returned from lunch with Raye when she noticed an envelope on her desk. When she gave a sudden glance up, she noticed a few of her coworkers quickly turn their heads away. Even in the FBI, word traveled fast... Misora forced her shoulders back, head high as she grabbed the envelope, her posture making her look every inch the feared Naomi "Massacre" Misora who no one really dared mess with up front. With stiff fingers, she opened the letter, and was surprised when she was staring at her own face.

Another drawing. This time a replica of her own stick figure, only in near photo-realistic likeness. In it, she was wearing her favorite leather jacket rather than the triangle dress she had drawn for herself. There was a lighter in one hand and the other held the _wara ningyo_ drawing above the flame, the fire crawling up the side of the page. Behind her figure was the word "generic" in larger letters than she had written, but still looked to be in her handwriting nonetheless and, upon closer inspection, was written in ink rather than the graphite used in the rest of the picture.

"Ah..."

Was he making fun of her?

She already knew she had no artistic talent. Maybe goading a serial killer with a weird sense of humor wasn't the best of ideas.

Misora did her best to keep her face blank as she glanced up again to deter the curious looks of her coworkers once more before she returned the letter to its envelope and shoved it into her jacket pocket.

-

Raye would be working late that night and Misora only felt slightly guilty at how relieved she was to be able to pour over the drawing alone in the privacy of her apartment. This wasn't just Beyond showing off, though she certainly didn't rule it out entirely. He had drawn her with such accuracy that she briefly wondered if he might have a picture of her in his cell. But no, as far as she knew, Beyond was allowed nothing but the occasional pencil and paper. He had simply drawn her from memory.

"Why are you so weird...?" Misora asked into empty air. "And you made changes." She hovered a finger above the lapel of the jacket. "That's not the crappy dress I drew. How am I supposed to know what's missing?"

The answer came far quicker than she expected, perhaps because she was absently spinning her engagement ring when she looked to the hand holding the lighter.

The hand, her left, was bare. She wore her ring throughout their investigation together, she very much doubted Beyond would have overlooked it, most likely even knew of Raye by name if he had looked into her background.

Her own word, "generic" was set apart from the rest by being in ink.

"My engagement is generic?"

Irritation started to build in her chest, at the implication that what she shared with Raye wasn't special but boring. As if some psycho locked up in prison had any right to make a statement on her relationship like that. Interesting way to woo a person, by insulting their important life decisions. Feeling contrary, Misora pulled out her cell phone and hit the speed dial, waiting for two rings before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Working hard or hardly working?" Misora asked, for lack of anything better to say.

"Heh. You know me, master of deception. As long as I _look_ like I'm working hard, that's all that matters."

"Maybe if you put in some effort, you could come home early."

"As nice as that sounds, it's gonna take a little more than just effort to get me off the clock before midnight tonight," Raye said. He sounded tired already. Misora thought about pressing the issue, but decided her petty mood had already passed as quickly as it came. "Was there anything else, or were you just trying to tempt me?

"Oh please," Misora said with a small snort. She quickly searched for an excuse. "I was just wondering what you had planned for date night."

"Ah, thanks for reminding me. I need to make reservations at that restaurant. You know, the one that puts flowers on the tables."

"Reservations? Raye, we don't have to go through that song and dance."

"Hey, watch your tongue. It's a Penber man's tradition to treat his lady to a nice night out."

Misora had opened her mouth to suggest they go somewhere new for once, perhaps literally anywhere else in LA, when her eyes wandered back to the drawing, a connection forming in her head almost against her will. Letters written in ink. In _pen_.

" _You're_ generic," she said, deciphering the real message.

"Hey, now! That's a little harsh."

Misora jumped and immediately backtracked.

"No no! That's not what I- ... Nevermind. Look, I gotta go. Need to make a call before 6:00." She went to hang up before moving back to quickly add, "Love you," and ended the call.

-

It was last minute, which meant she was forced to wait on hold even longer than before, but eventually she was connected.

"Rude," was the first thing she said.

"Oh?" Beyond Birthday asked.

"Calling my boyfriend generic is rude."

"Some might say it's romantic."

The familiarity of the conversation made Misora's stomach turn.

"Is it not? Two individuals vying for the same object of desire?"

She never wanted to hear him say the word "desire" ever again.

"That _other individual_ is my fiancé."

"And?"

"And I'm going to marry him."

"Alright."

"... Which means this courtship? Isn't going anywhere."

"That's fine."

There was a loud thump and it took Misora a moment to feel the dull ache from where she'd let her head fall to her desk.

"I don't think you understand how normal relationships work."

"I'm content as long as you continue playing the game. You've been doing very well. Should I try being more subtle with my hints?"

 _Game_ , he said. She didn't answer and silence fell on the line for a few moments before she heard the phone being transferred.

"Are you done here, ma'am?" It was a guard. Misora quickly raised her head.

"N-not just yet. A bit longer please."

The phone was transferred back.

"I don't understand. Don't you hate me?" she asked. "You're supposed to hate me."

"On the contrary, Misora. You're everything I could have hoped for. Unfortunately for the circumstances of our meeting, you were perhaps... _better_ than I could have hoped for. But I've come to accept this. To embrace it. You should too."

She almost hangs up again.

"... I do hope you continue to play, Misora. In whatever capacity you choose," Beyond said, almost softly into the receiver, before Misora heard him hand the phone back to the guard.

Their call was finished.

-

In the weeks to pass, however, Misora gave into this new characteristic of spitefulness; the cryptic messages continued, yes, but she ignored them with an almost willful petulance. Even against the Director's insistence, she removed herself from the case - if it could be called that - to address more important things. One might say she buried herself in her work, leaving the letters to be deciphered by people whose job it actually was to do so.

She never asked for their results.

She was asked for examples of her handwriting, however, and could only imagine it was so they could write back to Beyond under the guise of being Naomi Misora. She didn't have the heart to tell them it would probably get them nowhere. Let them find out for themselves just how unreal this man was. How bizarre and _other_. They would be in for a rude awakening.

The new letter she found in her home mailbox was proof of that.

She stared at it for a long time, a bag of groceries cradled in one arm as she debated whether or not the envelope would explode on contact. Poison, maybe? Since she highly doubted this one went through FBI inspection first, she wasn't sure she could rule anything out.

Misora startled when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but it was just her elderly neighbor waiting patiently just behind her to get to his mailbox.

"Oh! Pardon me!"

She grabbed the letter, closed the small door, and didn't explode.

-

 _It would seem that I've offended you._  
_Please unders_ _ ~~t~~_ _and this was not the_ _~~p~~_ _oint_  
_of my game; rather than push you_  
_away, my_ _~~g~~_ _oal was to i_ _ ~~n~~_ _trigue you. And_  
_you were for a time, were you not?_  
_A g_ _ ~~a~~_ _me built just_ _~~f~~_ _or you - a m_ _ ~~y~~_ _stery_  
_to_ _~~w~~_ _rithe in your_ _~~h~~_ _eart,_ _~~u~~_ _nhindered by_  
_t_ _ ~~h~~_ _e_ _~~c~~_ _old_ _~~l~~_ _imitations of la_ _ ~~w~~ _ _or man. It_  
_forced you to circum_ _ ~~v~~ en_ _t your_ _~~v~~_ _ery_  
_nature, the one that tells you it's wrong_  
_to want me. To want what we bring out in_  
_one another. Does it scare you? Excite_  
_you?_

_Admit it, Naomi Misora. Even now you  
still think of me._

_-BB_

That's where Raye found her moments later, standing over her gas range with the fire turned as high as it could go and the letter dangling from her fingertips, very much how she had drawn in the beginning.

“Jesus, Naomi, what are you doing? You're gonna burn the place down!” He rushed forward, grabbing her hand and turning off the gas. Reluctantly she let him, saying nothing as she numbly went back to her groceries to start putting them away. She saw Raye reading the letter out of the corner of her eye, even caught the moment when his confusion turns to irritation. “What the hell is this?” he asked angrily.

“A cipher,” Misora answered simply, moving to put a new jar of blackberry jam into the fridge, noticeably thinking twice, and turning to throw it into the trash can.

“A ci- Naomi, this is a love letter. A very incriminating love letter.”

“Incriminating how?”

Raye's lips thinned as he gripped the paper.

“I know what people are saying around the office about all this- and I know it's bullshit!” he quickly assured, “-but, christ, Naomi. Numbers and messed up drawings were one thing. This...?”

“It's a cipher,” Misora said again. She pulled the letter from his hand and flattened it out on the table. “See these letters?” she asked, pointing to specific ones. “See how they have small breaks in them where the others don't?”

“Okay...?”

Misora grabbed a pen from the counter and began writing on the same paper.

 _tpg_  
_nafty_  
_wh_  
_uhclwvv_

“Okay... well there's nothing else here, right? So, maybe a date shift cipher?” Raye asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Yeah, probably.” Misora already had a date in mind, had figured it out the second she turned the range on. 08/22/02. Oddly simple, worryingly obvious, but an important moment in hers and Beyond's history nonetheless. She took a moment to use the numbers to navigate the alphabet backwards. “The... Lady. The Lady of Shalott?”

“That poem they make us read in middle school?”

“Is that what it is? A poem?”

“Ah, sometimes I forget you didn't move to America until after high school. Yeah, it's a pretty famous western poem. Tennyson, I think? But what's this all about? What are you supposed to do with just the title?”

“...” Misora examined the letter again, trying her very best to read the words individually rather than as full sentences, because god forbid she comprehend their sentiment again. “Maybe the lines of the letter correspond to the lines of the poem?”

“It has four parts, if memory serves.”

“That's fine... yeah, look! The first marked letter is on the second line. Let's see... 246789. Second part, fourth paragraph-” she looked to Raye for confirmation and he simply shrugged, “and... sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth line, maybe?”

Raye's cell phone began to ring then. He gave it an annoyed glance before looking between Misora and the letter.

“It's Rob. Probably just forgot when we're meeting tomorrow. Give me a sec.” He excused himself from the room, but Misora was already pulling out her laptop from her bag and setting it on the counter. A quick search brought up the copy of the poem in question.

She briefly scanned the beginning, curious but aware that the rest was unimportant. 

Second part. Fourth paragraph. Focus.

“ _Or when the moon was overhead,_  
_came two lovers lately wed;_  
I am half-sick of shadows _, said_  
_The Lady of Shalott._ ”

Misora recited. “I am half-sick of shadows... You figured out they're not me, Beyond? Is that it?” she muttered to herself, scrolling the page back up so that she could read the poem in its entirety. "She knows not what the curse may be; therefore she weaveth steadily, therefore no other care hath she..."

“Sorry about that. Where were we- ah. Hey, you okay?” Raye asked, rounding the corner back into the kitchen a few minutes later. Misora blinked and looked up to him. “You look like you just watched someone punt a small animal.”

“It's kind of a sad poem, isn't it?” Misora finally asked.

“I guess? Been a while since I've read it. She dies in the end, right? Curiosity killed that cat and whatnot.”

“Hmm? Oh... The longing killed her, I think.”

-

Raye didn't want her to be here. To be honest, Misora wasn't really sure that _she_ wanted to be here. But more and more she'd perhaps realized she had no idea what she wanted, so why the hell not be here, since Beyond went to such lengths to ask her to come. Maybe she could finally put this to rest, confront the man, let him have his say, and be done with it all. Quit her job, get married, live a different life.

Maybe even be happy. Satisfied.

“Ma'am?”

The guard at the automated prison door looked at her with concern, unsure as to why she was just standing there. Misora gave him a nod and forced herself to move forward, deeper into the heavily secured building to the meeting room. Even before she entered she could hear him - hear Ryuzaki.

“ _No time hath she to sport or play;_  
_A charmed web she weaves alway._  
_A curse is on her, if she stay-_ ”

The absently spoken recitation stopped the second she stepped into the doorway.

The man she saw is not Ryuzaki.

Hands and feet chained to table and floor respectively, Beyond Birthday was there instead, so different from Misora's persistent mental image of his alias that it caused her to pause again. But she quickly reminded herself that this is how she saw him last, if not in slightly better health. The makeup was gone, as was quite a bit of skin for that matter, and what wasn't covered in scar tissue was much darker than she remembered. What was once black hair is now growing out into more of a deep brown. The hunched shoulders had given way too an almost lazy lean against the provided chair. This is the murderer from the hospital, not the freak she had been forced to work with.

Misora wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel in that moment, but a vague sense of disappointment probably wasn't appropriate.

“Naomi Misora,” Beyond said.

“Beyond.”

Silence.

“Some rather unimaginative folk have been writing to me lately. I did my best to ignore them and continue my correspondence with you, but alas, it seems that while I was ignoring them, you were ignoring me.”

She didn't deny it.

“How did you know the responses weren't from me?” she asked, finally taking a seat across from him.

“They read as being far too needy. They attempted rather carelessly to get me to reveal unnecessary things. Certainly not the cadence of a woman who once so willfully stepped on me.”

“That was an accident...”

“You stopped playing, Misora. Why?” Beyond asked, looking at her thoughtfully. Though his relaxed posture remained, Misora felt suddenly pinned by those terrible eyes.

“... It's not a very satisfying game.”

“Oh?”

“I enjoy investigating. Rather, I enjoy the process. The results, though? The answers never really feel worth the effort; it's all build up and no payoff.”

“Excitement without climax.”

Misora looked to a guard.

“Can I hit him?”

The guard almost seemed willing to let her.

“Your game is especially lacking," she continued. "I don't return your feelings, Beyond, whatever they may actually be.”

“But you enjoyed solving the puzzles.”

“That's important to you?”

“I have nothing else to offer,” Beyond admitted, pulling a bit at his chains.

“No, I suppose you don't... Sounds like a bad joke, doesn't it? An investigator who's never happy with the answers she gets. Maybe I'm meant to be something else.”

“I'm not unfamiliar with the feeling,” Beyond said lightly. “In my training, I was never given the option to be anything but a puzzle solver. Then I decided to make the puzzles-”

No one breathed for a moment. Misora knew her face was one of quiet shock.

“Ah. You see? Far more competent than those impostors,” he quietly said.

That was easy. Misora could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat. That was too easy. Wasn't it?

The word natural came to mind. It almost paralyzed her.

“Once a month,” she suddenly said, her mouth speaking before her brain had time to think of all the reasons why this was a bad idea. “I visit you once a month for a while and you stop sending me weird letters.”

A small, conspiratorial smile quirked at the side of his scarred mouth and Misora wanted nothing more than to slam her heel into it.

“Whatever would we talk about?” Beyond asked, irritatingly sardonic.

“I don't care,” Misora sighed, hands clenching into fists in her lap. “Old cases, manga, why you ever thought anyone would want to do a shitty crossword puzzle-”

“Crossword puzzles are fun and engaging.”

“-I don't. Care.”

Fine, Misora thought to herself. If Beyond was willing ( _willing_?) to share tiny bits of information in order to see her, she'd bite. For now. And maybe... Just maybe she could be satisfied with the answers she got. She had her doubts.

“The courtship is going far better than I had anticipated. I don't have a ring of my own to give you but perhaps-”

Misora was quietly thankful when one of the guards hit him for her.

**Author's Note:**

> (This can be seen as a prequel to my other fic Visitation [Paying Respects], though the writing style is very different.)
> 
> When I first watched Death Note, I always wondered why Naomi more or less let Raye make her quit her job to be a wife and mother after they married, as if that wasn't something she could do while still being an investigator. Another Note, in that regard, was very interesting to me in that it seemed Naomi wasn't quite sure if she was doing what she was meant to be doing, wasn't sure she was where she was meant to be in life. She seemed, to me, to be someone struggling to find a place in the world that felt right. I honestly don't know what that place would have been, had she lived, had she ever been allowed to find it. 
> 
> I love her so much, though, you guys.
> 
> (Did you know you can find me on tumblr at jettiebettie.tumblr.com? It's true.)


End file.
